Bandaged Feet and All the Rest
by tumble
Summary: Everything is a big black hole.
1. Listen to You Breathing

CHAPTER ONE: Listen to You Breathing  
  
"God, everything they write is depressing!" I exclaimed to Lizzie as I threw myself onto the couch. I was describing the songwriting styles of Lifehouse, Lizzie's latest music choice and what she was listening to when I barged into her living room. She was lying on her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling and not replying. I went on. "Every song makes me want to cry. It's like a new brand of emo for the Top 40 crowd."  
  
Lizzie sat up and stuck her tongue out at me. "I like my Top 40!" She exclaimed, smiling but shielding her eyes as the light streaming in from the windows blinded her sight. Her house was filled with the glorious picture of no one, with her dad at work and mother at the mall with Matt and Lanny. It was always nice to be able to have one-on-one time with Lizzie. But something didn't feel right.. I moved around uncomfortably a bit before I realized what had happened.  
  
I was sitting on something.  
  
I reached behind my back and pulled out a stuffed elephant. It's name was Faramir; I had named him after a character in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Normally, Lizzie would have yelled at me for crushing her beloved elephant, and I told her so. She breathed deeply. "No big deal." I tried to read her face, but her squinting made it hard to do. Oh well.  
  
"So, what's the plan for today?" She asked. I shrugged. Lizzie had invited me over, but she never mentioned coming up with a schedule. She sighed and fell back to the floor.  
  
Taking charge, I jumped up and strolled to the stereo. "First, we're going to turn this off. Or I really will cry." I stopped the music and Lizzie didn't protest. In fact, she didn't seem to be acting like herself at all in that moment. Again, I took charge.  
  
"Okay, what's up?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" She replied, tilting her face towards mine as the sun darted behind the clouds and she could see clearly.  
  
I slumped onto the couch again. "You're acting out of character."  
  
"This isn't a movie."  
  
"Seriously. Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nah. I'm just tired."  
  
This was evident. She didn't appear to have much energy at all, and when she did it was in little spurts - like yelling at me about her music choices. I decided to drop the subject; if Lizzie wanted to talk to me about something, she would. "How about we just take a nap, then?"  
  
"Good plan, Gordo." She gave a small smile and lifted herself onto the couch, curling into a ball at the opposite end. I sighed quietly and rested my head against the couch pillow. I closed my eyes but couldn't sleep. Lizzie was soon breathing slowly and heavily. 


	2. When None of the Pieces Fit

Chapter 2: When None of the Pieces Fit  
  
The next day was the fourth one into the summer vacation before our sophomore year. I was in the food court of the mall with Miranda and Lizzie, discussing Ethan Craft's hair over milkshakes.  
  
"Well, I thought it looked better longer. It evened out his chin and lips that way," I explained, sitting "Indian style" on my lightly cushioned food court chair.  
  
"Ew! No way. It looks so great shorter. Besides, it doesn't keep conversation from getting into his ears - and, eventually, his brain - this way," Miranda argued.  
  
"I guess I just don't see why everyone is so in love with him .. I mean, if we're just talking hair, he should keep it longer, but in all honesty, why care about his hair? Even if it's good hair - which I personally don't care about - he's an idiot! Besides, shouldn't this whole Ethan obsession have ended like, a year ago?" I exclaimed.  
  
"It would have, except that was around when YOU had that little crush on him, so it started up the cycle again!" Miranda teased, laughing mockingly. Lizzie kept silent. What was going on with her? Miranda obviously noticed it too; instead of rolling her eyes at me, she used them to stare questioningly at Lizzie, who was busy stirring her chocolate shake with the straw. Lizzie looked up.  
  
"What?" She asked, snapping out of her daydream.  
  
"Well, Gordo just implied that we were stupid for caring about Ethan's hair and you didn't even defend us .." Miranda trailed off.  
  
Lizzie shrugged. "I didn't feel like it. I don't really care about his hair that much, either," she responded, resting her arms on the table and her head on her arms. I gave her my best "What?!" face, but she didn't catch it. Miranda used a less subtle approach, throwing her arms in the air and practically falling out of her chair.  
  
"Nothing makes sense anymore!" she cried. I couldn't tell how serious Miranda was being, but Lizzie just gave one of those long, deep sighs I was getting accustomed to hearing from her. Guess it didn't bother her too much.  
  
"It's been a long day. I think I'll go home," Lizzie remarked.  
  
I must have thought too soon; she was bothered. For the sake of my sanity, I agreed to leaving and secretly decided to call Lizzie as soon as I got home for some one-on-one soul diving. All signs pointed towards "SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE LIZZIE MACHINE," and they were neon and blinking and even beeping at me.  
  
"Hey. It's me." I said into the receiver, flopping backwards onto my bed. The fact that I had a phone in my room still made little sense to me. Telephones almost scared me. In times like this, though, my room was a safe haven from the psychologists outside: professionals vs. Lucy from Peanuts, parents vs. child. For tonight's session, I had brought in the big guns - lots of food. It would inevitably be a long night.  
  
"Hi Gordo," Lizzie replied. She was probably eating Oreos and sorting through her clothes that didn't fit anymore. Just an educated guess.  
  
"So. Let's get straight to the point. What's wrong?"  
  
"Ew, these Oreos are melted!" She exclaimed. (So I was right!)  
  
Despite my amazement by my psychic abilities, I groaned. "Seriously! Wondering and worrying about you is not something I like to fill my time with!"  
  
"Gordo! Why are you worrying? Just because I'm not talking as much as usual? Please, save the worrying for when you see me mysteriously without a left knee!"  
  
"I think you're keeping something from me."  
  
"Really, Gordo, I have both my knees."  
  
"Ha ha, you're not great at stealthily avoiding the subject."  
  
"What do you want me to say? I'm suicidal?"  
  
"Are you?!" I began to panic. ENTER PANIC MODE.  
  
"Of course not! I'm fine. just a little, well, out of sorts." She sensed the panic mode and quickly turned it down a notch.  
  
"Oooookay.. well.. how so?"  
  
"Precious Gordo, always there.." - Lizzie's voice changed a little bit.. she was beginning to sound apathetic. Or maybe just dreamy, I couldn't tell - "I just need to try something new on for size."  
  
I wasn't following. "What, like, new pants?"  
  
"You know, for a smart guy, you.." she started. "Nevermind. I'm just TIRED, Gordo. I'm TIRED of it all, so I'm changing it." This statement wasn't really an exclamation, which definitely surprised me (coming from Lizzie). Nevertheless, I knew what I had to do.. give her the "stay the same" speech.  
  
"But I like you the way you are, Lizzie. You're perfect being Lizzie."  
  
"GOD, Gordo! Please stop and listen to what I'm saying!" She was defiant, sure of herself, and definitely getting worked up. "All I need is for you to be with me! I don't feel comfortable being me. You've already got this whole puzzle figured out, so please, PLEASE, just give me a chance to put it together!" Whoa, talk about surprises. I could feel cosmic laser beams shooting out of her eyes. I could feel her heart beat race. I could feel it slowing down. I could feel her taking a deep breath, then letting it out.  
  
"Okay." That was it. It was all I could say.  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
"'Night." I hung up the phone and heaved a deep sigh.  
  
Everything's okay? 


	3. I'll Be Fine Without These Bones

CHAPTER 3: I'll Be Fine Without These Bones  
  
Since the earth (well, at least my earth) was rotating quite strangely and off-kilter lately, I spent the day following The Surprising Confrontation staring mindlessly at the television in my empty living room and daydreaming about Jacob. Jacob Willoughby was the love of my life, or so I described him when Miranda and Lizzie weren't hovering about, trying to pry into my crushes like they did each other's. I wasn't exactly dating him.. Actually, I wasn't doing much except being his lab partner in Science I. However, he was nearly perfect in every way. Perfect Jacob was tall (good, as I am a midget), charismatic, friendly, hot, almost as smart as I, punctual, and perhaps gay (I hadn't determined whether he was actually straight or just hiding his true sexuality and mad love for me). Perfect Jacob always wore the puka shell bracelet I gave him for his birthday and called me Zephyr (the infamous middle name). In my daydream, Perfect Jacob and I had run away together after an off day as lab partners in the upcoming Science II. To Spain.  
  
'Would be great if could speak Spanish,' I thought. Apparently I had been reading too much Bridget Jones, as I was thinking exactly like she wrote diary entries. 'Suppose am lot like Bridget. Am single and fawning over stupid men.' At least I wasn't smoking and counting calories. Yet. I might start drinking like a fish, though, if drama with Lizzie didn't slow up for at least a little while. I hadn't spoken to her since the night before, but I needed to catch my breath and think about something else, like Perfect Jacob. I was finding, though, that it was hard to concentrate on Spain with Perfect Jacob with the TV on. I felt quite lazy. 'Must be other exciting lands to explore that don't involve hitchhiking.' So I locked the door after me, not changing out of my pajamas of grey cut-off sweatpants and Lucky Charms shirt, and headed into a more populated area.  
  
I was buying a newspaper and ordering a mocha at the Digital Bean when someone called my name.  
  
"Gordo! Heeeey, Gordo!" I turned around to Miranda waving and grinning. I nodded but couldn't wave as it is quite dangerous to wave with large cup full of very hot liquid.  
  
"Hey, Miranda," I replied, sitting at a table for four while she sat across from me. "What are you doing all by your lonesome?"  
  
"I could ask the same of you," she responded.  
  
"It's not exactly abnormal for me to be alone." I raised my eyebrows at her. "Are you Miss Cleo in disguise, knowing I would come at exactly this time?" I mockingly accused her.  
  
Still smiling, she looked at her watch and fiddled with the yellow buttons on her shirt. There was a pause. "I'm meeting my boyfriend here," she said, and smiled even bigger.  
  
'If surprises do not stop coming, am going to explode or turn into giant eggplant,' I thought negatively.  
  
"What are you talking about here? Who? When? I'm so confused!" I cried, keeping my yucky thoughts to myself. I took a calming sip of my mocha. Mmmmmm. Mocha good. Mocha relaxing.  
  
"I. Have. A. Boyfriend!" Miranda squealed, then more or less quickly regained her composure. "We always talked and flirted and stuff but he only asked me out yesterday, after you and Lizzie and I left the mall. And I won't tell you who.. It's a surprise," she explained and grinned widely.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?!" I said incredulously, my eyes the size of tennis balls. How did she keep this from me? Then it came to me. It MUST be Ethan.  
  
"I just didn't want you to go and say that he's stupid or vapid or something," she responded. I guess she could tell I was a bit hurt at that comment, as she quickly added "No offense or anything! You know how you are.." Another smile.  
  
"Is it Ethan?" I inquired.  
  
"I'm not telling!" she teased. "Relax, he'll be here any minute."  
  
"Did Lizzie know?"  
  
"Nah. My little secret."  
  
I sighed impatiently. This guy better get here soon or..  
  
"Heeey, Zephyr!"  
  
YES! YES YES YES! Oh God. I was wearing my pajamas. Oh God Oh God Oh God.  
  
Perfect Jacob went on. "Chillin' with my girlfriend on this lovely afternoon?"  
  
I blinked. Miranda grinned. I shattered into a trillion pieces. My ribs gave way, deciding not to protect my heart from plummeting to the ground. My Perfect Jacob kissed my best friend hello and stomped the pieces of my body to dust on the floor.  
  
"Hey there, Jacob," I responded, somehow fully able to outwardly function while my remains were blowing across the linoleum. Perfect Jacob sat down at the table while Miranda kept smiling dumbly. He was wearing the bracelet. He called me Zephyr. He would never love me and would always love some girl and I would be the ashes in their fireplace.  
  
I couldn't take it.  
  
"Oh, shit, I didn't lock the front door. I should get home. Miranda, call me sometime," I said, smiling and making a quick getaway.  
  
"Bye, Gordo!" Miranda the Lovebunny cooed. She was so happy.  
  
"Seeya later, Zephyr! We should hit a movie sometime or something, man!" Oh God. I nodded as I quietly swept my remains out the door. The light wind picked up my dust and carried it to lands far and wide. I was dying.  
  
It was nothing I couldn't handle, right? 


	4. So Sick of This Terrible Instinct

Chapter 4: So Sick of This Terrible Instinct  
  
Attemping to drink myself to sleep was what I did that night. It gave me a stomachache. Too much herb tea can do that to you. I sat on the couch and watched Molly Ringwald films while my parents spoke at a psychiatric convention of some sort. I felt exactly like Duckie in "Pretty in Pink" -- pathetic. It's not like I hadn't been let down, broken up with, or other such things before, but this felt different. It was like.. Perfect Jacob would never like me back. All those other guys I fawned over would NEVER like me back because, well, too bad for Gordo, but they were straight! It wasn't fair! What if my perfect guy, my soul mate or whatever those stupid magazines say, what if he was straight? What if my soul mate was really a girl?! Sleeping with a girl.. Gross! I was so confused. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out and rip Miranda's hair out and just go to sleep all at the same time. I did none of them, though, because I am quite fond of my composure and also because the phone was ringing.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Gordo, it's me. You want to come over for awhile?" Lizzie asked.  
  
Relief on top of anxiety on top of being exhausted kept me from being overjoyed. "Sure, be right there," I simply replied. Click. What happens next?  
  
I clambered up Lizzie's front steps in the dim dusk light. I knocked. Lizzie appeared like an apparition, opening the door and greeting me before I even realized anything was happening. She smiled and suddenly I got that feeling, like the whole world was about to be lifted off my shoulders. Just knowing that I could spill my guts and everything about Perfect Jacob to Lizzie made my heart feel lighter.  
  
"So. how's it going?" she asked, looking at me as she lead me up to her room, her thumbs in her pockets like she looked a bit uncomfortable.  
  
'How IS it going?' I asked myself as I settled into a hot pink bean bag chair. I thought of Hannah Rayburn's mom on "State of Grace" who always pronounced it "bean BAG chair." And suddenly I had a(nother) painful realization, like when Hannah found out Grace's brother and his girlfriend had gotten back together and she knew he wouldn't fall in love with her. Perhaps not that severe, but I knew one thing: This wasn't a night where I'd be spinning my web of atrocious feelings so that Lizzie could hug me and tell me everything would be okay. Duh. I was supposed to be there for Lizzie. No need to burden her with anything, as my problems inevitably would.. She'd just get stuck in my web. So I replied dishonestly:  
  
"Pretty good," I replied. "Did you know Miranda has a boyfriend?" No harm in asking..  
  
"Yeah. He's pretty irresistible, too," she commented, propping her feet on the pillows of her bed and spreading her arms out as far as she could fling them. Ugh. I guess I shouldn't have asked.  
  
Happy thoughts happy thoughts happy thoughts! No good comes from being the uncooperative unsupportive best friend.  
  
"Sure. So how are things with you?" I inconspicuously changed the subject.  
  
"Could be better." She shrugged. I didn't see it but I could feel it. She rolled over and looked at me. "Gordo, where do you get your clothes?"  
  
Ooooookay. "Quit changing the subject. Or at least get better at it first."  
  
"No, seriously. Where do you get your clothes? You never buy any when we're together at the mall." Well. This was puzzling. She sounded so nonchalant and sincere, and I was positive she wasn't about to mock me.  
  
"The Salvation Army on Hack Ma Tack and the Goldmine, a thrift store, on Lawless Road."  
  
"How come we never go there when you and Miranda and I go out?" More inquisitions. I wasn't sure I appreciated the third degree.  
  
"Because you guys would spend the entire time complaining about how gross second-hand clothes were and how you could never buy a shirt for two dollars and blah blah blah blah blah!" I exclaimed.  
  
"Well, I think I might stop by there sometime," Lizzie said, ignoring my less than polite comment.  
  
"REALLY?!" I cried incredulously as my eyebrows practically flew to the moon.  
  
"Sure. All my other clothes are so binding."  
  
"Okay, Cher Horowitz," I muttered. Lizzie threw a pillow at me and made a face but didn't smile. She had only smiled once since I walked in the door. Obviously, she wasn't back to normal. 'But what exactly IS normal in LizzieLand now?' I couldn't answer my own question.  
  
"Gordo, is there something I should be doing right now?" Lizzie asked.  
  
NO MORE QUESTIONS! NO NO NO NO NO!  
  
"Um.. Not that I know of?" My reply came out in the form of the question. I was so sick of being confused. I wasn't supposed to be confused.  
  
"I just.." She gave a long pause. "I just feel like I should be doing something. Like, I'm completely forgetting or missing out on something. I just can't put my finger on it, I don't know what it means. It's like.." She paused again. "Nevermind. Not important." She shook her head and yawned.  
  
I looked at my watch. 10:14 PM. "I should get home before my parents do.." I decided not to make too much of what Lizzie had just said. If it was important, she'd tell me, right?  
  
Right? 


	5. Someone's Hand Around My Neck

CHAPTER 5: Someone's Hand Around My Neck  
  
"Wow," I muttered, TV remote in hand as I watched "Even Stevens" on the Disney Channel. "That AJ Trauth is really, really, really, really hot." It was the day after Shopping with Lizzie Day, which to me was secretly Pick Lizzie's Head Day. Which sounded really gross and made me think of gorillas, but AJ was on the screen and my brain couldn't come up with something better. I wanted to elope with him. No. I wanted to have a big giant wedding with him and invite Miranda and Jacob so he could see what he was missing.  
  
"He's a FIT," I growled, unhappy with the circumstances.  
  
"A what?" AJ's character, Twitty, said to that little annoying kid.  
  
"A fag in training," I responded absently. I just wasn't getting over it. Which I should have been, right? I was the spitting image of cool; disaffected, smart, socially not popular or unpopular. And I couldn't get over some love interest in a matter of days. Loser. But I would not beat myself up over it, no sirree Bob. No sense in that; I was better than that. And I had other things to attend to. like wearing a "shoulder to cry on" sign around my neck. Yesterday had been particularly hellish, since Lizzie was one of those people who are afraid of second-hand clothes. She found sweaters that looked exactly like the ones she already had and a new purse. Obviously, her clothes were not the root of her issues.  
  
Which got me to wondering why I even cared.  
  
  
  
The next two hours ended up putting me in a considerably better mood, what with that Even Stevens marathon and all. 'Am good friend. Can help Lizzie, somehow. Am good friend.' I repeated my new mantra in my head. It had the potential to keep me sane, in an indescribable way. I felt like nothing in my head was connected to the other things in my head. My thoughts were like thousands of little me's just babbling away and not making any sense. So it was perfect that I got a phone call that instant.  
  
"Y'ello?" I answered, pacing and dancing on the wooden kitchen floor like I always did.  
  
"Hey there GordON," an all-too-familiar voice replied.  
  
"Ethan? Er, what's up?"  
  
"I really don't know what I'll say so go ahead and ask anything or say anything," he responded, slightly slurring. 'Oh my God, where did he get the audacity to call me when he was drunk?' Then another thought hit me.  
  
"Ethan, why the hell are you drinking at 2 in the afternoon?" I asked, furrowing my brow.  
  
"GordON, can I come over and talk to you?" He asked. This was unnatural. This was cosmic. This was one thousand little me's chirping "What the hell?!" "What the hell?!" Still, I had sanity in my grip and came up with an appropriate reply.  
  
"How about you stay put and I come over there?" I suggested.  
  
"Okay, man. Are you, I mean. yeah, address?"  
  
"Yeah, Ethan, I know where you live." And I thanked God for this, too, since there was no doubt that Ethan's directions would put me in a river somewhere.  
  
"All right. Later, man." Click. The confusion was maddening. I was sure the headlines would read "Young Boy Dies of Confusion!" I knew it would be a painful death.  
  
I then repeated my mantra, narrowed down slightly. 'Am good friend. Am good friend.' It helped slightly and I exited the house, headed for the Craft residence.  
  
Something interesting about the walk to Ethan's was that it took me past Kate's house, who, if she had known where I was going, would have wished she were me. Kate wanted Ethan more than ever before and there was little doubt that he wanted her, too. Miranda was now taken and the buzz on Lizzie was that she was being "weird," so Ethan had little to choose from. I kicked at the sidewalk. No one ever wanted me.  
  
In no time I was on Ethan Craft's doorstep, otherwise known to teenyboppers as the Gates of Heaven. I rang the doorbell once, twice, thrice before he answered. As I entered the house, I found The Suspect in Question to be in a much better physical state than I expected him to be. And then I had my Sad, Startling Thought of the Day: 'Perhaps he will actually say something that I have to listen to.'  
  
He did. Well, sort of.  
  
"Hey GordON, sit down, pour yourself a drink," he said, flopping on the couch and gesturing to the array of bottles before him, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic.  
  
"No thanks, not thirsty." I replied, relaxing myself on the other end of the couch. He shrugged. "So uh, Ethan, what's up?"  
  
"Well, GordON, you're gay, right?"  
  
"Yeah, last time I checked," I responded, wandering into AJ-Land.  
  
"Well, you see." he started, with that perpetual puzzled expression on his face.  
  
And then he was on top of me. His mouth tasted like alcohol and chocolate and metal, he had one hand on the back of my neck and another on my chest. Within ten seconds it was over, leaving me wondering (again) about what was going on. Had I actually LIKED kissing Ethan Craft?  
  
"Hey, sorry, GordON, man," Ethan apologized, looking uncommonly vulnerable. He seemed to be torn between speaking and silence, and I didn't know what to do. This new layer to Ethan made him strangely attractive. I suddenly wanted to make him feel better, though I had no idea whether his behavior was some effect of the alcohol. 


End file.
